Forgeing On Without Gred
by dannielletudor
Summary: Voldemort has been defeated and the world celebrates.  Most of it, anyway.  George Weasley is devastated over the loss of his best friend: his twin, Fred.  Can one Weasley Twin survive without the other?  Or will George soon join Fred in a grave?
1. Shock

_Forge_-ing On Without _Gred_

Disclaimer: No, I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter series or characters. J. K. Rowling does. This plot, however, is entirely mine (although, so it is more realistic, I have used authentic book quotes), and I'd prefer for it to stay that way. I am very protective of the things I write, from the tiniest poems to my book. Oh yeah, I wrote a book, too. As soon as I finish the bloody editing, I'm sending it to a literary agent. I've had my query letter done for ages, but really, editing is such a pain in the _derrière _that it is really dragging itself out. Or maybe I'm just incredibly lazy… Anyhow, it's titled _No Magic_, and it'll be coming to a bookstore near you, so look out for it, okay? Oh, and that title's mine too. So no touchie!

As for this fan fiction story, it is my first. My friends have been obsessed with fan fiction for a while, and after the third pretty much ordered me to write something, I decided to. And this story had been brewing in my head since 8 AM, Saturday, 21 July- the exact time that I completed the last Harry Potter book. Oh, this has **spoilers** from every book, I suppose, so **beware**. Anyhow, Fred's death really tore me up- the Weasley twins were probably my two favorite characters- and writing is comforting and a thing I usually do, so I began this story. It's relatively unedited and occurred rather spontaneously, so go easy on me, all right? Reviews would be dandy, but it would just be nice if you read my story. I can't make any promises about updates and I have no idea how long it will take me to reach the ending I have in mind, but if you want to read my story with those risks in mind, go ahead. Enjoy!

Chapter One: Shock

My breathing is so heavy and uneven that I am positive I must be going into shock, but it is not _my_ breathing that's got me concerned. It's Fred's. Or, rather, the lack thereof. I am in a scene from one of my worst nightmares. My entire family is clustered around a body. The face, ashen pale and cold, is identical to mine, except it has two ears. But what help are two ears when you're… dead? My brother, my twin, my best friend, is lying dead on the floor, and there's nothing I can do to help.

We always help- we always _used_ to help- each other out in tough situations, usually those involving Filch, Hogwarts' caretaker. But now… No one can save Fred now. No one… I was his best mate, and now I can only stare at his dead face, bemused. The rest of my family is dealing with the loss in their own ways. My mum, sobbing unabashedly. Dad, comforting her while gazing at his son in shock. Bill, Fleur, and Charlie, simply watching the proceedings detachedly, their eyes as glassy as Fred's must be behind their dead lids. Percy, having finally realized that he was acting like a terrible, treacherous prat, had just made up with us all. Moments after we were reconciled… Sadness came over us again. Now he is trembling, his horn-rimmed glasses lying askew on his pale face, his arm around Ron, who is huddled miserably next to him. Ginny has silent tears pouring down her face as she is embraced by Hermione. Some Weasleys absorbed in their own grief, others trying to console Mother, who is taking this really hard. But as I stare at them all from my place at Fred's head, I feel a terrible rage well up in me. He was _my_ twin, after all, and no one thinks to specifically comfort _me_.

Then, realizing how horrid I am being, I swallow apologetically and stand up. I cannot stand this scene any more. "George…" Charlie says hesitantly, his voice cracking. I ignore him and pace away, avoiding the other bodies lying on the floor. I don't even want to know who else died. Only one death could make me feel this terrible, and it occurred. I can't deal with any more pain.

As I pointlessly wander through the corridor by the Great Hall, Lee Jordan calls out to me. "George! Hey, George!" I do not answer, so he tries again. "Fred?" The feeling that came over me at that moment was so powerful that I cannot even describe what happened when I got confused with Fred for what was probably the last time. With my single ear, that had not been happening as often, but at times like this, when I was seen from a distance… Nausea sweeps over me in a fierce wave, and I double over, coughing up an insanely large amount of vomit. Even testing the Puking Pastilles when they were still faulty was not as bad as this, but then again, Fred was with me then, at my side to laugh and make me well. Now, without my twin, I feel as though I have just regurgitated all of my inner organs, or at least my spleen. The growing pile of sick looks like it has a spleen-like lump. Or maybe it's my heart that I've spit up. Merlin knows it's already damaged beyond repair.

Lee is at my side in a second. "George? What's wrong? Where's Fred?" I wordlessly shake my head. For a moment, it looks like Lee is going to hurl up, too, but then my lack of an answer apparently gives him hope. "Is he missing? We'll find him, George, I swear we will!"

For a moment, I revel in the knowledge that to Lee, at least, Fred is still alive. As much as I want to lose myself in this illusion, I know that it won't last forever. I sigh, an invisible weight pulling my entire weary body down, and open my mouth to explain this impossible situation. Then, as I look into Lee's concerned eyes, I spot something on the wall behind him. A mirror. In it, with Lee blocking my ear-less side, it is as if Fred is alive, breathing again. I allow a small gasp of air to escape my throat before sudden inspiration hits me. I know very well what I must do. "Come on, Lee," I tell him, struggling to pull my eyes away from my reflection. "There's something we have to do."

"For Fred?" Lee questions, confused.

I nod grimly and say my dead twin's name. "For Fred."


	2. Bravery and Butterbeer

Chapter Two: Bravery and Butterbeer

Disclaimer: Nothing has changed since I posted the first chapter. J. K. Rowling hasn't sold me the rights to Harry Potter, or anything. Honestly!  I think we all know that Jo Rowling doesn't write fan fiction, so I'm obviously not her, and hence only the title and plot of this story are mine. Everyone good? Oh, and I didn't intend for this story to contain a lot of swearing, which this chapter does. It just seems like what George would say and think. So I have left the swearing as the little George Weasley in my mind said it, except for instances involving a certain four-letter work that begins with the letter "f." Yep. You guessed it. So anyhow, _that_ swear is typed as "eff," "effiing," or "effer," as in "mother-effer." Sorry, but this fanfic needs to stay a nice, clean, _T_, people. I get the feeling, however, that you are all smart enough to understand this and move on. Honestly, I cannot describe how many amazing stories I have read on this site… I understand that the next chapter or so might get a wee bit boring, seeing as it goes over Voldemort's defeat, etc, which we all lived through in _Deathly Hallows_, but please; stay with me and (emo) George, and I promise you will not be disappointed.

And now I'm running, running faster than I have ever ran before, faster even than just a little while ago, when Percy came to me with tears in his eyes and told me something was wrong, terribly wrong. Even with a broom, I have never achieved this frenzied pace. I speed to the great doors of Hogwarts and fling them open, prepared to slay every effiing Death Eater out there to make sure I kill the one who murdered my brother. Oh, I'll make him eat Death, or better yet, shove it up his filthy, evil ass. In my mind, a picture of them all lying dead at my feet- an extraordinarily pleasing image, might I add- replaces the one that has haunted my mind for the past half an hour: my brother's body, pitifully lying on the ground. As I prepare to leap out the door and begin cursing every Dark toerag in sight, I discover, to my great chagrin, that none are present. The only moving creatures that I can see are Oliver Wood, Gryffindor's old Quidditch captain, and Neville Longbottom. Both are carrying bodies into Hogwarts. The hour You-Know-Who has "given" us must still be going on. _The bastard_, I add silently. _It's because of him that Fred is... It's because of him that all of these other people have had to suffer. It's because of him that Sirius is gone, Dumbledore is dead, and Harry's parents were murdered. And blimey, has Harry been through a lot…_ At that moment, I realize that I have not seen Harry in ages.

I peer out into the grounds, searching for him with my eyes. Surely he must know that Fred is… dead. Surely he would have come and mourned already! But there is no trace of him, and I turn away, bile in my mouth. What if Harry's dead, too? What if he listened to You-Know-Who and turned himself in, trying to save us?

"George…" Lee begins hesitantly, beginning to understand the truth. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," I miserably but honestly answer. With the Death Eaters gone, I should go back to the Great Hall, back to my family, back to that scene of death and mourning. But as I turn, loud laughter is heard. Behind Lee and I come the rest of the fighters, trying to see what is making the noise. The voice of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named explodes in the air, spreading itself through all of Hogwarts. "Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone." A small part of me, the part in which happiness, hope, and other good emotions still remain, cries out that this is impossible. Bloody nonsense, all of it, I'm sure. But everyone on our side stream outside, then rapidly come to a horrified halt. In the arms of the sobbing Hagrid lies the body of Harry Potter.

At that moment, I go paler than ever as fear courses through my veins. I had not been as close to Harry as I was to Lee and Fred, but still… We had been teammates. We had been Gryffindors. We had been friends. Harry had been the one to give Fred and I the Galleons to start our joke shop, after all. And always, there was that air of mystery around him. "The Chosen One." "The Boy Who Lived." I knew that there had been something special about him; everyone could sense it. There was always that mysterious presence that tethered him to You-Know-Who, and I'm not talking about his scar. No, it was an invisible something, one that somehow broadcasted the sense that Harry's fate was somehow tied to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's. We all figured that somehow, things would turn out okay. Besides, the whole "Chosen One" thing just seemed like a bit of a joke to Fred and I, simply another adventure and interesting tale. But now I realize it was so much more. Everyone's hopes- mine included- had somehow been riding on Harry. And now that he was dead… Misery sunk even deeper into my bones, and I diagnosed the feeling. There was no hope left in me.

Professor McGonagall is the first one truly outside. When she spots Harry, she lets out a keening wail. Beneath her strict exterior, she truly cares for her students. I always suspected, especially after she scheduled an "emergency" Gryffindor Quidditch practice on the same night that Fred and I had a detention with Snape- one that involved testing Veritaserum brewed by the Remedial Potions crowd in front of the Slytherins- in our second year. So I already knew McGonagall was really an old softy, but the pain in the screamed "NO!" echoes the distress in my own heart so well that I stare at her in shock. Not only am I confirming that the uptight Transfiguration teacher could have really made such an undignified noise, but I am also grateful to be looking at a live person I know and care about instead of a dead one, for a change. Then Ron, Hermione, and Ginny release their own calls of horrified realization.

At that moment, the people around me erupt with noise, spitting curses at You-Know-Who, the giant snake wrapped around him, and the Death Eaters. Filled with sudden life, I, too, take up the cause of Fred and Harry, and scream my displeasure to the stars. Then, without warning, the breath is ripped from my throat as You-Know-Who shouts "SILENCE!" No one is able to utter a word expect Lord Snake-face, who continues. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"

Hagrid gently does so, and I gulp, tears silently streaming down my face, the screams trapped inside of me by the spell. Harry's death and the Dark victory have released any self-control that remained with me after Fred… croaked. And then I think back to another time when Fred croaked, but with a different meaning. It was back when I had lost my ear, and I'd told him I was saint-like because I was now "holey." Obviously leaves a lot to be desired, but there was a hole in my head, after all! I hardly expected my joke to be brilliant. So before Fred understood, he'd croaked, "Holey? His head's not affected, is it?" And then I'd explained and Fred had scoffed at my reduced comedic prowess, and even though we'd never be completely identical again, we began to laugh. And everything was right again.

But now it never will be, especially now that Harry's gone, too, and it seems like the world will be taken over be Dark wizards, so things appear to be rough all over, I guess. Too bad the Death Eaters can't be frightened away as easily as Umbridge. I happen to have some merchandise from the store- three sticks of Weasleys' Wizard Whizzbangs, as a matter of fact- but I doubt they'll run away from two floating "POO"s and one specialty design showing Snape's head, complete with greasy hair, being devoured by the Grim. Yeah, not particularly likely. It's a shame, but I suppose that after having to look at ugly Voldy here, those murderous Dark bastards are used to unfortunate sights.

You-Know-Who is still talking, but only a small part of me is listening. "You see? Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones?" I feel my hands curl into tight fists of fury. "He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

Then, like a rally of hope, I hear Ron's voice cry out, breaking the silencing spell. "He beat you!" And my cries of sorrow are released in a great rush, along with the screamed taunts the others around me had been trying to send the Death Eaters' way. Then it was over as soon as it started as a more powerful spell came over us.

"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds," You-Know-Who's high voice declares rather snootily, continuing to sprout falsehoods. I did not know Harry as well as Ron did, but I do know that he was brave… too brave to run away from the Death Eater scumbags that killed his friends and family! Just as I want to avenge Fred's death, Harry had a lot of deaths he wanted to make those Dark bastards pay for. His parents, Cedric, Sirius… No, Harry did not run away from the battle. I am sure of it. But You-Know-Who apparently does not care that we clearly understand the truth. "…killed while trying to save himself-"

Hurtling from the crowd flies Neville, who interrupts the rant. With some bangs and flashes of light, he is disarmed, and lies at You-Know-Who's feet. "And who is this? Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?" Bellatrix Lestrange, the great bitch who tortured Neville's parents and killed Sirius, chuckles in glee. Merlin, that woman is perverted! What I would give to get my hands on that piece of shit…

"It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord!" she is crying in delight. "The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?"

"Ah, yes, I remember," comes the snake-like hiss of a response. "But you are a pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?"

Although he has no wand to protect himself with, Neville looks like he is planning to kill You-Know-Who using Muggle Dueling, if his glare of rage doesn't do the trick. Which, mind you, I am half-convinced it will. "So what if I am?" he boldly questions. Neville is most certainly not the same awkward boy who dashed away after being put in Gryffindor, the Sorting Hat still on his head.

"You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need you kind, Neville Longbottom."

"I'll join you when hell freezes over," declares Neville, and judging by the tone of his angry voice, that is not likely to happen. Then he shouts spiritedly, "Dumbledore's Army!"

And even I, I, who feel like I have been to hell and back this night, cannot hold back the cheer that seems to explode out of my every orifice. I am filled with pride, pride for Neville, defiantly taunting the most powerful wizard- Dark or otherwise- in the world, pride for the others around me, who are prepared to sacrifice themselves to do what is right, pride for Harry, whose pitiful body lies in front of the wizard he died trying to destroy, and finally, pride for my brave, brave brother, who, too died to make the world a better place. Died to save the ones he loved. Died to save me. And against all odds, I find that joy has wormed its way into my heart. In a feeling similar to that of drinking Butterbeer, it seems as if warm hope itself is spreading through my veins. And despite the loss of my twin, my best friend, despite the silencing spells You-Know-Who is trying to cast, I scream out with all the joy and life within me. "DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY!"

**A/N: **Hey! Did you like it? I hope so! I have written about fourteen chapters now, so I'm going to relax a bit and work on other projects. Sorry I didn't post this for so long. I was on vacation with no internet accsess (the hotel totally lied- well, it simply wasn't working, but still). Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review and give me your thoughts! And for those of you who have reviewed, you have my thanks. Adieu!


	3. The Boy Who Died?

Chapter Three: The Boy Who Died?

_All right, everyone. Sorry that I didn't post for ages. I was thinking about my story the other day- writing the sixteenth chapter- and I realized I had never posted the third one. Major oops and apologies owed. I promise to be better about this in the future. I have so much written that it's stupid to withhold it. Anyhow, to make things up to you loyal readers, I'll post the fourth chapter, too. I did not really edit these at all, so if you spot any errors or have any ideas for me, please review and share them. Constructive criticism is a writer's friend, after all. _

_I am also sorry that I am going over the events in the last few chapters of _Deathly Hallows._ I feel it is important to go over George's take on them. Since it is his responses to things that are truly important, feel free to skim some of the Voldemort-Harry quotes, etc. The next chapter two chapters or so really have a lot of extra information, so they won't be entirely dull. I promise! And so everyone is aware, Chapter Five is really the last one to chronicle the events in DH. So enough rambling. I, Dannielle Tudor- not J. K. Rowling, in case you were wondering- will let you get on with the story. _

But although new life has been born in me, it appears that Neville's is about to leave him. "Very well," You-Know-Who says. "If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head be it." And then the Sorting Hat comes flying through a window, summoned by the truly evil dick-head, who has now turned back to Neville. "There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School. There will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield, and colors of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone. Won't they, Neville Longbottom?" With that, You-Know-Who puts Neville in a body-bind curse, and magically shoves the Sorting Hat onto the poor boy's head. I watch in trepidation, watch the hero that Neville Longbottom, in Harry Potter's absence, has become. "Neville here," continues He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named lazily, "is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me." And suddenly, the Sorting Hat is in flames.

Simultaneously, the giant Grawp, Hagrid's, ironically enough, _little _brother, comes thundering around the castle, calling out, "HAGGER!" Some sort of swear in Gobblegok? Oh wait, that's goblin, not giant… Never mind. He is promptly attacked by the Dark giants. Staring at the flaming Sorting Hat in horror, I absentmindedly think of all the other wizards and Muggles in the world. I bet they have absolutely no clue that an epic battle that holds the fate of the earth in its hands is being fought here in Scotland. Probably many are sleeping, blissfully unaware that so many people are dying to save them. That to save their lives, Fred, my Fred… I bet they don't know or care that now I have no twin. As I ponder this, the sound of hundreds of thundering hooves erupts in the air, and centaurs are pouring from the Forbidden Forest and into the battle, shooting deadly arrows at all of the nearby Death Eaters.

And somehow, Neville, who was thought surely dead or almost so, leaps up, letting the burning Sorting Hat fall and simmer, forgotten, on the ground. Then he pulls out of the hat a huge silvery something- Gryffindor's sword, I note a second later- and cuts off the head of You-Know-Who's huge snake. I watch in amazement as the head flies up into the air. I have absolutely no clue why Neville did that, so I stare at him in wonder, then register that it was probably the snake that attacked Dad. Laughing slightly to myself, I turn and watch its body fall on the ground with what must have been a satisfying thump. I'm glad that the beast is finally dead, and the effect its death is having on You-Know-Who is truly superb to watch. Absolutely excellent. For a moment I snigger mentally, _Goodness! He's acting like he lost a brother, or something!_ Then I take it back, prepared to scrub my mouth out with soap and cut off my tongue in punishment for saying something so cruel, so unfeeling. If You-Know-Who was as close to that creature as I was to Fred, then he has every right to be reacting as he is. His mouth is opening in what I'm sure is an enraged scream, and then it opens even wider as Hagrid cries, "HARRY! HARRY – WHERE'S HARRY?"

The fight explodes in full force around me. As various magical creatures assault the Death Eaters outside, many of them rush into the castle, closely pursued by hordes of angry witches and wizards. Then, with joy issuing from Neville's bravery and the snake's death, and extreme sorrow and anger over Harry and Fred's, I charge into Hogwarts with a war cry, Lee following close behind me. We run into the battle in the Great Hall, where I spot a Death Eater. He is unengaged, having only recently arrived in his haste to escape the centaurs' arrows and Grawp's gigantic feet. As he turns toward me, I pull out my wand, relishing every moment of this. "Excellent," I murmur to myself, looking at Lee with the ghost of one of my typical grins. He nods and returns to smile as I turn back to the man, who was warily drawn his own wand. "Truly excellent."

And then we fight. I am in some sort of bloody, primeval daze. Blood lust has filled more entire being, and as dangerous as I am sure that sort of possession is, Merlin, does it feel _good_! I pay no attention to the other Death Eaters, the defenders of Hogwarts, to centaurs, the house elves, who have poured from the kitchens to protect the castle… Not even Lee Jordan, who is still fighting beside me. Before, I was always part of a team. Fred was there to create plans, to motivate me, to make things happen. Now I have discovered that I am able to take charge of myself without my twin. The freedom, while frightening and horrible, is in this case exhilarating. I have nothing to lose- Fred was the one truly precious thing to me- but everything to gain. Particularly this man's downfall and the feeling of glee that I am sure will result. Then, suddenly, the Death Eater I am fighting stumbles. Lee and I seize upon the chance. He sends a stunning spell at the man, who begins to topple backward. But the rage boiling in my blood cannot let him survive. I raise my wand and cry, before I can even think about it, "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

And the Death Eater's body goes limp, and Lee Jordan is staring at me in horror- _I_ am now regarding myself with horror- when I hear a joyful cry. "HARRY! HE'S ALIVE!"


	4. I Believe Both

Chapter Four: I Believe Both

_Surprise, surprise! I kept my word! Yippee! This chapter _was _posted when I promised it would. Inform the media! Start the presses! Jo Rowling has posted Chapter Four in her fan fiction story! All right, all right, you caught me. I'm really Dannielle Tudor. But I would've gotten away with it if it wasn't for you kids and your mangy mutt! (I love Scooby Doo. That adorably ugly Great Dane and his pals are something you can't grow out of.)_

_Anyhow… (Or anywho, as my friends Casey and Claire would say) I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please review! Thanks to all of you who did and who added this fic to Story Alert. It means a lot to me… and George. And he's been through so much! You wouldn't want to break his heart once again, right?! Okay, okay. I'm getting carried away. You may proceed to read…_

As shocked as I am that I have become a murderer, I am even more overwhelmed when Harry Potter, whose dead body I was staring at not too long ago, steps out of thin air and, tossing his Invisibility Cloak aside, steps up to You-Know-Who. Almost as one, everyone begins to step back to the walls, allowing the two to confront each other. I am still frozen, however, until Lee roughly grabs the back of my robes and pulls me backwards, tossing me to the ground. "What the hell were you thinking?" he hisses in my ear as I fall.

Something relatively soft cushions my descent, and I look down to see, underneath me and next to the body of the Death Eater I murdered, Fred's dead body. The true understanding of what I have done comes over me. Killing that man has not brought my brother back. Instead, I have only created another tragedy, murdered someone whose family will now be in mourning, too. Evil or not, killing is wrong. Fred's death should have really shown me that, but instead… Shuffling off my brother's corpse in horror, I murmur, pained, "I don't deserve to be saved."

"Don't be a git," Lee snaps distractedly, now turning to watch Harry and You-Know-Who. "Of course you do."

As much as it is a relief to hear words that seemingly provide forgiveness coming from Lee's throat, I know they are false. I will admit that I am equally curious to see if Harry- who has come back from the dead, but my brain is too fried to figure out _how_- can defeat the strongest wizard alive. However, Lee could have at least _looked_ at me when he talked. Surely I'm more pleasant than You-Know-Who's excuse for a face! Then I realize that I have sunk to his evil level, and miserably allow my body to sag against the wall, Fred still beside me. "I'm sorry," I softly whisper to his unhearing ears. Then I turn, and watch what will be both the greatest triumph and greatest defeat the world has ever known. But which one will it be for our side?

Meanwhile, Harry is telling You-Know-Who that some things- horcrabs, maybe- are all destroyed, so it is just down to them. Why He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had crustaceans fighting for him, I have no idea. But the rest of Harry's message is clear. Right here, right now, one of them is going to die. "'Neither can live while the other survives,'" he is quoting, "and one of us is about to leave for good…"

"One of us?" You-Know-Who questions mockingly. "You think it will be you, do you, the boy who has survived by accident, and because Dumbledore was pulling the strings?"

"Accident, was it, when my mother died to save me? Accident, when I decided to fight in that graveyard? Accident, that I didn't defend myself tonight," what on Earth is Harry talking about? "…and still survived, and returned to fight again?"

"_Accidents!_" screams You-Know-Who, whose rage is palpable. "Accident and chance and the fact that you crouched and sniveled behind the skirts of greater men and women, and permitted me to kill them for you!" Fury is bursting from my eyes, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's back is having trouble supporting the onslaught, I am sure. I am completely appalled that he is blaming _Harry_ for the death of Sirius, of Dumbledore, of Fred! _He_ is the one that gave the orders! _He_ is the one who set his evil minions on us! The twisted, sick, perverted son-of-a-bitch… He's acting as if he is some sort of victim, _nobly_ killing all those people. My stomach emits a weak groan, a warning sign that I may throw up yet again, which seems to echo in the silence before Harry replies to You-Know-Who's taunts.

"You won't be killing anyone else tonight," Harry declares firmly, and as I watch him, and let his words pour into my ear, I am filled with belief that he can win. I, now made so weak and trusting through grief and guilt- after all, why wasn't I at Fred's side when he died, to save him, to die in his place, even- soak up these words of comfort hungrily, hanging onto every single syllable with rapt attention. "You won't be able to kill any of them ever again. Don't you get it? I was ready to die to stop you from hurting these people-"

"But you did not!" You-Know-Who shrieks, almost pleading that Harry's words are not true. But as I hope they are, I somehow _know_ they are, and even more than before, I cease thinking and simply take in every word that is exchanged.

"-I meant to, and that's what did it. I've done what my mother did. They're protected from you. Haven't you noticed how none of the spells you put on them are binding? You can't torture them. You can't touch them. You don't learn from your mistakes, Riddle, do you?" Fleetingly, regret and even fury because Harry did not act sooner, did not sacrifice himself in time to save Fred, runs across my mind. Then, sick with myself, I take that comment back, too. I seem to be doing a lot of that lately. To blame Harry, who has already sacrificed so much, for not placing himself in Death's hands at the first available moment? I am being more of a prat than Percy, full of all of his mistakes and hatred, ever was. I shoot an apologetic, encouraging stare at Harry, and continue to watch.

"Yes, I dare. I know things you don't know, Tom Riddle. I know lots of important things that you don't. Want to hear some before you make another big mistake?" Ferally circling Harry like a cross between a lion, a snake, and a huge bird of prey, You-Know-Who cautiously yet curiously listens.

After a moment, he speaks, seizing upon the moment as another opportunity to throw insults in Harry's face. "Is it love again?" Dumbledore's favorite solution, _love_, which he claimed conquered death, though love did not stop him falling from the tower and breaking like an old waxwork? _Love_, which did not prevent me stamping out your Mudblood mother like a cockroach, Potter – and nobody seems to love you enough to run forward this time and take my curse. So what will stop you dying now when I strike?" Oh, if only my love for Fred could bring him back. I'd do anything, _anything_ to have my twin again!

"Just one thing," answers Harry vaguely.

"If it is not love that will save you this time, you must believe that you have magic that I do not, or else a weapon more powerful than mine?" Behind You-Know-Who's mocking tone lies open curiosity, which he can barely disguise.

Simply, Harry responds, "I believe both." I look around the Great Hall, and see that everyone else is just as enraptured and surprised as I, and You-Know-Who, both are. And shoving all doubt aside, I pour my faith into the small, skinny boy in front of me, and believe both, too.

_A/N:_ _What did you think? Sadly, school is starting soon, so I won't be able to post too often. But I'll try to not to make you wait more than two weeks. And by the way, a revised version of Chapter One is up. It is not terribly different, so you don't need to read it. I was just putting that information out, in case you're interested. And by the way, has anyone else noticed the similarities between Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter? I was watching _The Fellowship of the Ring _last night, and the entire conversation with Gandalf and Frodo and how the One Ring and Sauron and truly one, and though the Dark Lord's body was destroyed but his soul remained because the ring did, and the Ring can exert Dark power over the people near it, and power is the thing that would tempt Gandalf more than anything, and he would use the Ring in an attempt to do good but get corrupted… I had complete déjà vu with Harry and Dumbledore's various Horcrux conversations. Anyone else see it? And when the Dark Riders are coming for the Hobbits after they locate those mushrooms- the leaves blowing and a path seeming to shrink, etc- looks a lot like the fourth movie in the maze. Just saying. It's quite intriguing. I will do all I can to update on time! _

_Dannielle_


	5. The Truth

Chapter Five: The Truth

**A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in so long! I kind of forgot, and school has been… school. Oh well. I'm putting three chapters up, now, in hope of forgiveness. SORRY!**

**ATTENTION- NHL hockey season is starting in about 20 days!!! Are you excited? I'M SO PUMPED!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE HOCKEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

**Ahem Um, sorry about the outburst. I'll, uh, just, you know, go back to, uh, Harry Potter, okay? Sorry… Awkwardly inches away**

Then, in the midst of his shock, He-Who-Must-Now-Be-Named lets out a huge bubble of maniacal laughter. "You think _you_," it is amazing how much scorn that little word contained, "know more magic than I do? Than _I_, than Voldemort, who has performed magic that Dumbledore never dreamed of?"

"Oh, he dreamed of it, but he knew more than you, knew enough not to do what you've done."

Apparently, You-Know-Who is quite pissed at this point. Which, really, now matter how you look at it, cannot be a good sign. "You mean he was weak!" he screams. "Too weak to dare, to weak to take what might have been his, what will be mine!"

"No," corrects Harry, "he was cleverer than you, a better wizard, a better man."

"I brought about the death of Albus Dumbledore!"

"You thought you did, but you were wrong," declares Harry. I must admit that I am bemused. What is Harry doing, playing for time? It's obvious that Snape, the bloody bastard, the two-faced mother-effer, killed him. And why would anyone kill Dumbledore is he or she wasn't working for You-Know-Who? No sane person would take out the only wizard stronger than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named without doing it for a legitimate, Dark reason!

"_Dumbledore is dead!_" You-Know-Who spits, relishing and drawing out every syllable. "His body decays in the marble tomb in the grounds of this castle, I have seen it, Potter, and he will not return."

In spite of the fact that he is throwing pointless lies into the face of the strongest, most evil person on the planet, Harry is quite calm. _Maybe getting that scar did make him daft…_ I think to myself. There's no other rational explanation for this phenomenon. "Yeah, Dumbledore's dead," says Harry casually, "but you didn't have him killed. He chose his own matter of dying, chose it months before he died, arranged the whole thing with the man you thought was your servant."

"What childish dream is this?"

"Severus Snape wasn't yours," Harry announces. Though the intelligent and reasonable part of my brain dismisses this as codswallop, I lean forward and listen, anyhow. I want to know how Harry tries to back up this claim. I mean, really. Is he so scatty that he completely forgot that Snape murdered Dumbledore? How the bloody hell could that be _arranged_? "Snape was Dumbledore's, Dumbledore's from the moment you started hunting down my mother. And you never realized it, because of the thing you can't understand. You never saw Snape cast a Patronus, did you, Riddle?"

I wonder how this is important, but it does not matter. This whole conversation, this whole _day_ is so ludicrous that I am positive someone is going to pop out at any moment and shout "Surprise!" And then You-Know-Who will vanish, and the house elves will serve us all a huge feast, and then Fred will wake up and we'll transfigure all of the Death Eaters into rats and feed them (we wouldn't really be killing people, as they'd be rodents, so it'll be okay) to Buckbeak, who'll bring with him on his back Fleur's _gorgeous _French cousins, and the Weird Sisters will show up and we'll have a dance, and… Hey, I know it'll never happen, but it's a pleasant thought, right? Better than the real world. _Anything's_ better than the real world!

Things outside of my brain are progressing in interesting ways, too. "Snape's Patronus was a doe, the same as my mother's, because he loved her for nearly all of his life, from the time when they were children. You should have realized, he asked you to spare her life, didn't he?" I wrinkle my nose in disgust. This may be a lie, but still, I have to pity Harry because of this fictional situation. Having Snape love his mum? Horrifying, really, but imagine him as Harry's _dad_. The house would never have shampoo in it, I suspect. I'd certainly not fly beneath Harry in Quidditch games- I suspect greasy dandruff would leave a disgusting, snow-like trail behind him.

"He desired her, that was all, but when she had gone, he agreed that there were other women, and of purer blood, worthier of him-"

"Of course he told you that, but he was Dumbledore's spy from the moment you threatened her, and he's been working against you ever since! Dumbledore was already dying when Snape finished him!"

"It matters not! It matters not whether Snape was mine or Dumbledore's, or what petty obstacles they tried to put in my path! I crushed them as I crushed your mother, Snape's supposed great _love_! Oh, but it all makes sense, Potter, and in ways that you do not understand!"

You-Know-Who was shrieking, and appeared to be losing control. And that, more than anything else, convinced me that Harry's crazy story was true. "But that's just loony," I whisper, both amazed and amused. Lee cuffs me harshly, afraid that I will attract He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's attention, but this situation is just too funny to ignore. I have not had anything hilarious to think about since Fred… But anyway, this is too good for me _not_ to laugh. Seriously! What an idea! I speak through my laughter. "It's absolutely mental! To think that that slimy git was actually-"

And although You-Know-Who and Harry are still circling and talking, I do not get to see or hear any more. Lee, who is looking at me like I'm mad- which, considering how much I have been through, really is possible- has punched me in the head as silently as possible, too frightened to use a spell. I use my last seconds of consciousness to give him a glare before falling over in a faint.


	6. Moldy Voldy

Chapter Six: Moldy Voldy

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

"_Expelliarmus!"_

I wake just in time to hear two shouts, which sound so interesting, promising, and frightening that I shove myself up just in time to spot what happens. Golden flames flare up between You-Know-Who and Harry as a huge bang goes off. Then, amazingly, a wand flies out of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's hand and into Harry's. And as this occurs, You-Know-Who tumbles backwards and… dies.

I jump up in excitement, ignoring the black eye developing on my face. Lee might've made me miss some interesting things, but it made the ending even more dramatic. I rush to him, a flying mass of red hair and black robes, and embrace him, crying out with joy. Lee, who still seemed partially convinced that I had gone insane, relaxes and hugs me back as I roar, "HARRY'S DONE IT!" And multitudes of people rush toward him, all trying to catch a glimpse of the boy who had finally defeated- yes, now I'll say the name- Voldemort, after all these years. In this happy moment, I half expect to see a red-haired boy, freckles all over the head sitting on the stout body, a boy identical to me, bellowing the same message. And in this illusion, we rush to each other and dance around, chanting, "HE DID IT! HE DID IT!" just as we did with Ginny when Harry wasn't expelled two years ago. But this is reality, not my dreams, and the fact that You-Know-Who is vanquished in both should be comforting. It is, but nothing can cover up the gaping hole in my heart. I always seemed to feel (and I'm positive that a lot of other people felt this way, too) that once Voldemort was overthrown, everything would be perfect. But that is simply not true. Now that he is gone, the aftermath, the ruins, the grief, is what we must overcome. For although the world is not threatened by a major Dark wizard, Fred is still dead, and always will be so. I realize this, and hopefully will eventually come to terms with this horrid truth. But for now, I must accept defeat, and slowly recover. In time, I'm sure, the pain will fade. I just have to look forward to that day… If I can survive the sorrow in between.


	7. Fred the Poltergeist

Chapter Seven: Fred the Poltergeist

_This is one of my favorite chapters, though Chapter Eight truly deserves that honor. And don't worry. I don't replay scenes from the book. This is quite different. And sad… Sniffle, sniffle. But then again, this whole story pretty much is, so I shouldn't be surprised. But perhaps George will have a happy ending. Perhaps. You'll just have to read on to find out!_

_Oh, is anyone else going to see _Across the Universe_? I can't wait! Jim Sturgess has a delicious voice!_

As if the world needs more grief! Lupin and Tonks, two adults who actually had good senses of humor, were killed, too! Lupin was an amazing Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, the best we ever had, not to mention one of the creators of the Marauders' Map, and Tonks was a great person, too. And Lee, who has finally learned the truth about Fred, has been trying his hardest to cheer me up, but honestly, I don't think I'll ever laugh again. How can I without Fred chortling along with me? Lee's been following me around, and when he's not trying to pull supposedly amusing pranks, he is lecturing me, telling me to be optimistic. Optimistic! Blimey! As if enough optimism will give me my brother back!

Thankfully, I have finally escaped him and Mum, who has been alternating crying on the shoulder of each family member, especially Percy. I suppose she's making up for all of the time without him. Anyhow, Percy, with his shirt so wet that it shows his thin chest quite clearly, and I have finally escaped our friends and family. But now he turns on me, and I sigh quite audibly. "What is it, Perce? A brother-to-brother chat? You going to tell me the glass if half full? 'Cause guess what? It's not even half empty! There's nothing in it at all! Nothing! You hear!" I scream, losing control for what is not the first or last time. Fred has been dead for not even a day, and I've already gone mad. Great.

But to my surprise, Percy sighs, too, and Summons two chairs (stiff, like him). He wearily gestures for me to sit, and collapses in the other. "Listen, George," he begins. "This is hard on all of us, and-"

I glare at him and declare like a selfish child, "Especially me!"

"Especially you," Percy amends. "You're right, George. But we're a family. Even without Fred, we're the Weasleys. And Weasleys… We need to stick together, okay? We need to be together, and together, we can be strong."

This makes sense, but I'm not willing to do anything. And besides; I'm on a roll with blaming those around me and making them cry. Today I've already got Mum, Dad, Ginny, and Charlie. Maybe I can add Percy to my list, too. "Oh, really? Where were you for the past few years? Sending hateful letters, returning Christmas parcels, ignoring Dad…?"

Percy _does_ look pretty distressed, but he's not sobbing, yet. "I know, George. I know, and I'm sorry. But I'm here, aren't I? I finally understand what you've all known the entire time. You had faith, and I didn't. But now I do, and I'm back. We're all together again. So. Can you try? Try for me? Try for Fred?"

"Don't say his name!" I explode, standing up and tossing the chair against the wall. Wordlessly, Percy repairs it, then continues in a quiet voice.

"Please, George. This is exactly what I mean we _shouldn't_ do!" I remain standing, a defiant jilt to my chin. "_Please_," Percy stresses. He waits a moment for my response, then stands and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Look, George," he begins quietly. In the time since Fred's death, I have noticed everyone has this amazing urge to restate my name every few phrases. I suppose they're trying to make sure it's me- to confirm which twin they should be mourning. "I know I haven't been the best older brother to you, and I don't just mean the whole thing with the Ministry. In general. I was always too tough on you and Fred. I was never forgiving. I never simply took your jokes and laughed at them instead of snapping at you to stop. And if you want to know the truth… I was jealous," he admits. Normally, I would gape in shock. Perfect Prefect Percy? Jealous? Of us? Fred and George, Gred and Forge, the family clowns. Always in trouble, never getting overly good marks, only good for a laugh. But now I am too absorbed in my misery to even care. I can still listen, though, and as I can tell saying this to me means a lot to Percy, I will myself to stand still and listen.

"Yes, I always was jealous. I am closer in age to Charlie than to you, George, but he was always with Bill. Bill accepted him, but never me. And from an early age, I became "the smart one." Oh, I know," he says with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I know that the academic kid gets the praise and the prefect badge. A great resumé. But I was never known as fun to be around. A funny person. A good person. Bill is cool and smart. Charlie had Quidditch. You and Fred were the funny ones. Everyone wanted to be around you, and George, we still do. Fred's death changes nothing about how we feel about you. You two were different people, and the love we had for you, George, is still there, and always will be. Ron is the brave Weasley who saves the world with Harry Potter. And Ginny, the baby and only girl, appreciated for her spunk. But me… I was useful for studying, for honoring the family name, but not the one who people went to for fun or a talk. Did you ever notice that I was never invited to play Quidditch with you all? Ever? When I was younger, it was my greatest dream to play with my older brothers, to make them proud. But they never asked me, so I gave that up, and like a good boy, trudged back to my schoolwork," Percy says sadly. "So Bill and Charlie were mates, and then you and Fred came along. I was full of hope that maybe, maybe now I'd have brothers to play with, friends of my own. But ever since you two were babies, it was obvious that you were close, unusually close, even for twins. I resented you two for it, and so I'm afraid I was always short with you. And then there was Ron, and Ginny… It seemed like there was never room for me in the family. Maybe, had I felt more loved, I never would have left in the first place. But I'm here, George. I'm here for you," promises Percy quietly.

I feel bad for my brother- I never would've guessed he felt that way- but I cannot accept his promise of comradeship. Fred was my best friend, and other than Lee, my only close friend. No one can take his place. Ever! "Sorry, Perce," I say coldly, pulling away and walking back to the Great Hall, "but I'm afraid you're just not a good enough replacement.

Of course, I'm well aware that I probably just broke Percy's heart back there. But mine's in tatters, so if he really wants to belong, his needs to be in pieces, too. I return to the Gryffindor table, sitting far away from my family. After a few minutes, I hear Percy sit down beside me. Apparently, he still wants to talk. I turn away, but instead of giving me some sort of speech, Percy, against his normal, didactic nature, just puts a gentle hand on my arm. Angry, I recoil, and he silently drops his arm. It's as if at this point, I have already acted so cruelly to everyone that I might as well continue. But no one else is nearby to abuse, and I've already pushed Percy to his limit, so I merely morosely stare at the ceiling. The sky outside is apparently _delightfully_ cerulean, with puffy white clouds scattered throughout. I curse it for not being dark and dreary. It should be raining, hailing, tornados sweeping through the countryside. The elements should be mourning Fred Weasley. But apparently, they have decided to mock my brother's death with this disgusting… _happiness_. I give a cloud that looks suspiciously like a Canary Cream the Evil Eye until Peeves comes swooping into the Great Hall, happily singing.

"_We did it, we bashed them, wee Potter's the one, _

_And Voldy's gone moldy, so now let's have fun!_"

At first, I feel rather annoyed and prepare to curse Peeves, but then I am temporarily amused by a brilliant thought. My twin would never leave me, I'm sure. Wherever he would go, Heaven, I suppose, surely he'd miss his George as much as I miss my Fred! He would- _will_- come back for me. But Fred will never become a normal ghost- oh, no! He'll be a poltergeist, like Peeves. I can see him clearly… swooping around, dumping Peruvian Darkness Power in corridors, putting a love potion in McGonagall's pumpkin juice…

Apparently I said some of this out loud, for Percy, his voice flat, wearily replies, "Let it go, George. He died happy. I was there. He's not coming back." And then, truly admitting defeat, I bow my head and run away. Mentally, I review some of the best moments Fred and I had together: finding the Marauders' Map, winning the Quidditch Cup, rescuing Harry in Dad's flying car, giving Harry's cousin the Ton-Tongue Toffee, escaping from that Umbridge hag on our brooms amidst applause and our wonderfully disgusting swamp, opening Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, filching food from the kitchens, practicing with Dumbledore's Army in the Room of Requirement… The Room of Requirement! And then, suddenly, I have what I am sure is the best idea of my life. I race through the halls until I reach a corridor I know quite well. Walking past a tapestry of trolls in tutus, I think furiously to myself, _I need to see my brother, I need to see my brother, I need to see Fred… please!_ And then a door appears in the wall, and I open it with a smile on my face. Fred and I are going to be together once more!


End file.
